While Your Lips Are Still Red
by rokubi-raijuu
Summary: As the moonlight slowly turns to dawn, Leon and D share telling moments of mutual affection. Oneshot. Fluff. D x Leon.


Here we are – another spur-of-the-moment Deon fanfic. x3 This one is more or less purely fluff, inspired by the song that is its namesake – While Your Lips Are Still Red, by Nightwish.

A few of the lines are from the chorus of the song.  
Please R&R. C: Thank you!

xxx

"Tonight, my detective, the moon will be our only witness…"

Those words yet still sent a ripple of emotion along his spine, tingling the hair along the back of his neck. He would never forget the sound of D's voice when he had murmured that, soft but filled with fervor, against the skin of Leon's neck, captured in a moment of beautiful, fantastic passion. At the time, Leon's only response had been to mumble something incoherent before crouching down over the Count, slowly dragging rough hands down his pale skin as his lips blazed kisses along his throat, trailing to the hollow of his delicate shoulder. The way D had shivered then as heated skin had touched heated skin, the way he had arched gracefully and a gasping whisper of "Leon..." had escaped those perfectly parted lips, the silence of the innocent night broken only by those muffled noises – Leon didn't think he could ever forget it, could ever push that image from his mind.

The night that had borne witness to their desire of the night before was slowly breaking to faint rays of glowing sunlight, the chirps of early-morning birds marking the beginning of another day.

Elbow propped against the mattress and head resting in his palm, Leon reached up his other hand to cup the cheek of the elegant man before him, rubbing his thumb gently once over dark lips before smoothing his fingers down over the graceful jaw-line, sweeping along the milky-white skin of his throat to rest on his collarbone. Everything about this man was exotic, every dip and curve of his body fascinating and beautiful, elegant, holding hints of secrets that Leon had only grazed the surface of. He leaned down then and pressed his lips softly to the junction of D's shoulder and neck, smiling – the Count was sensitive here, he had learned the previous night, and any hint of contact sent delicious shivers up his thin frame.

He felt the pliant body stir slightly beside him, and Leon lifted his head to meet D's open eyes, dark lashes sweeping over glittering irises - gold and purple… not natural at all, but just another thing that held such wonder for the detective. "You were awake…?" he murmured, finding himself captured by the expression on the Count's face. To think, the face that now faintly radiated such gentle adoration had only months before been as much of an enigma to Leon as the rest of him.

The smile that curled D's lips then nearly stole Leon's breath away. "Of course, my detective," he replied in his gliding tones as one slender hand came to rest on Leon's bare chest. Sweet words, made for silence, not talk. But that only made it all the more precious when he did speak. Leon smiled then, feeling the beat of his heart grow stronger against his rib cage the longer he looked at D and his innate serenity. A young heart made for love, not heartache.

But it had taken so long for him to realize that.

Lifting his hand from D's thin chest, he slowly, as if thoughtfully, smoothed it through the Count's curtain of black hair, savoring the way it drifted through his fingers like silk, loving the way D's eyes fluttered closed here and a soft sigh escaped his lips then. Dark hair made for catching the wind, not to veil the sight of a cold world. How could he be evil? How could D hate humans, inflict so much death when here he was, lying fine and serene beside him, contentment coming off him in almost tangible waves?

"Leon," D began to murmur, but a soft "shhh…" from the detective made him stop. D opened his eyes to look at him quizzically, but Leon only smiled.

"Don't talk," he replied, "don't break this silence."

D understood then, and smiled as well, a genuine smile, as Leon leaned forward and their lips calmly met. At last, Leon understood the meaning of peace, at last this man had found calm in a raging world of chaos, a pinpoint of love in a society so plagued with hate. The Count closed his eyes as they kissed, the moment wholly untainted, snatching his breath away.

Leon knew then that nothing else was important. Kiss, while his lips are still red, while he's still silent. That was all that mattered. Rest while bosom is still untouched, unveiled. Later that day he would be out on the streets again as a police officer, but now he had to show D again and again just what human love was, why their species was not a hopeless one.

D laced his long fingers through Leon's as he breathed softly into the kiss, loving the way the detective understood instantly and tightened his hold on D's hand ever so gently. Hold his hand while the hand's still without a tool, without the cold metal of the gun, without the blood that marked the end of another life, marked the beginning of another grieving heart.

When they at last pulled apart, Leon flicked out his tongue to catch D's lips as they retreated, and he grinned just so. Still neither spoke, simply lay there in companionable, comfortable silence. He found himself staring into D's eyes then, vibrant gold and mysterious purple, found himself reflected in that admiring gaze. How long would that look last before something else happened and D could stand to be beside him no longer? Leon pushed that thought away fiercely – drown into eyes while they're still blind, blind to all faults, to all imperfections.

And he sighed then, lowering his head, unable suddenly to look on the ethereal man that rested next to him. It had taken two years, but here they were – how different things had been, what a way they had come. A single finger touched his chin and lifted his head. He opened his eyes to see that small smile dancing on D's mouth again. The command came gently, suggestive and soft, in a faint breathing whisper that reminded Leon of D's voice last night. "Love, my detective. Do not think – love." While the night still hides the withering dawn.

And so Leon slipped his hand out of D's to twine his arms round the other's delicate body, drawing him close with a satisfied breath. And he loved.

He loved, and in that moment, they were infinite.


End file.
